Facts of Life
by eruthiel
Summary: The Marauders learn some very important lessons.
1. Un is a wonderful prefix

**Disclaimer: I don't own them.

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"Hey, guys. Isn't 'un' a great word?"

"Prefix."

"What you say, Moony?"

"Prefix. 'Un-' is a prefix, not a word." _Duh._

"What's that?"

"Hey, don't look at me, Wormtail. _I'm _not the fount of all knolage, you know."

Peter looked at Sirius as if he very much dissagreed. "Well _someone _just _tell _me, all right?"

"Yeah, stop teasing, Moony. We aknolage your vastly superior wisdom."

_Sigh. _"A prefix is something you stick at the beggining of a word to change its meaning." _I repeat: duh._

"Oh, like people put 'scientific' at the beggining of a sentence to make it mean 'hard?'"

"Shut up, Wormtail." It was taking all Peter's self-controll not to salute and yell 'siryessir' but he managed it. Barely.

"So, you were saying. 'Un-' is a wonderfull prefix because . . ?"

"Well, just think of all the amazing words you can make with it!"

"What, like 'uncooked?'"

"Well _obvously _not that, but there are loads of others . . ."

"I can think of a few," said Peter thoughtfully, "but mostly they're bad ones. Like 'unnemployed.'"

"Or 'unwanted.'"

"Or 'undead.'"

"What's so bad about being undead?" demanded Sirius.

"Well," said James slowly, "it's not so much _being _undead. It's more _having to destroy them_, if you know what I mean."

Sirius was not going to be defeated that easily. "Yeah, okay guys, but there are _other _words. _Good _words."

"Such as?"

"Well . . . 'unscathed' is OK. And 'uncontaminated' is a good one. It's always reasuring to know that you're uncontaminated."

"Yeah, I guess. But 'unnacceptable -'"

"And 'untrustworthy!'"

"Yeah, 'untrustworthy' too - _they're _bad 'un-' words."

"I suppose you're right," said Sirius miserably. "'Uncle.' Can't stand _those _words."

"'Uncle' isn't an 'un-' word, 'coz without the 'un' it's just 'cle.' See?"

"How about 'unit?' That's spelt 'un.'"

"Yeah, but without the 'un' it's just 'it.'"

"'It' is a word!" exclaimed Peter.

"Okay, but 'it' and 'unit' mean nothing like each other. They're not aven the same kind of . . . type of word."

"Part of speach." _Hello, yes, walking dictionary, that's me. Jeez._

"Yeah, part of speach, that's what I said."

"You know, maybe 'un' isn't such a great word after all."

"Prefix! It's a bloody prefix, not a word! Jeez! That's language abuse, that is! People like you have no right to speak our tounge!"

"Okay, okay, calm _down_! I didn't know you were allergic to bad grammar."


	2. Dreams don't mean anything

**OK. Dreams don't mean anything. I do not neccissarily believe this, 'coz I once had a dream that was a perfect reflection of the next day's episode . . . I say **_**reflection.**_

**No mine, capiche? Wow. Bombshell, that. I'm sure you're all really shocked to discover that I am not, in fact, JK Rowling. Hard to believe, innit?**

"Aaaaaaarrrrrgggghhhhh!!!!"

James sat up in bed, sweating. The other boys groaned and sat up, rubbing their eyes.

"Morning already?" mumbled Sirius. "I must say, that cockrel sounded like it could do with a lemsip . . ."

"Go back to sleep, Padfoot. The only cock around here is the one that keeps screaming in the middle of the night," grouled Remus, glaring at James. "_Another _bad dream, Prongs?"

"Uh-hu," James repied, rubbing his eyes, "that really strange one again. You know, I told you, where Padfoot and I are dead and Wormtail's evil and mine and Lily's son has to save the world."

"Jeez, am I the only one around here who can be normal without dying, turning to the Dark Side, marrying chicks that hate me or having heroic sons?"

"And you're old, poor and dangerous," added James, smiling into the darkness.

"Says who?" Remus demanded.

"Says you. In the dream."

"Prongs, your stupid dream doesn't mean anything, all right? When have your dreams ever come true? Hmmm? They don't! They just don't! Dreams - don't - come - true!" He lay down. The other three, guessing Remus' expression, followed his example. They lay in silence for a few moments before James said:

"There was that one about the tap dancing crab . . ."

"_All _crabs move like that, Prongs."

"And the one about the staff getting drunk, that came true . . ."

"You spiked their pumkin juice! Besides, you dreamed that _after _it happened. Evans marry you? Dream on, mate!"

"OK." And just like that, James fell asleep.

"How does he _do _that?" wondered Sirius.

"Apparently being screamed at by Evans by day is not good enough. He has to dream of her hollering at him, too."

Peter sniggered and everyone ignored him.

"Be funny though, wouldn't it, if it did come true?"

"I'll say. Imagine the child of Prongs and Evans: it'd be split personality, wouldn't it, and one half would keep screaming at the other half."

There was a silence as all three boys tried to picture the son or daughter of James and Lily. In unison, they all shuddered.

"It's for the best," said Sirius firmly, and the other two nodded in agreement. "We must never let her get to like him."

"Cor, we've really got our work cut out for us there. Stop Evans falling in love with Prongs? That'll be tricky."

"Nah, it'll be quite easy, actually."

_Thud. Thud. Thud._

"Moony, why are you banging your head on the bedpost?"

"Oh, no reason. No reason at all."

"Oh. It's just, I thought you might have been sarcastic and we missed it."

"Really? What ever gave you that idea?"

"It's just, that's usually the case when you start banging your head on hard surfaces."

"Oh." There was another pause. "Someone aught to write that dream down. It'd make a good story."

"Yeah, a science fiction gore thriller: The Mutant Ninja Space Warriors Do Battle With The Ferocious Bloodthirsty Death Eaters From Planet Zorgon."

Another pause.

"No."

"Just an idea."

"Just so you know, I'm not planning to become evil, I hope you know that."

_Yeah, _thought Sirius, grinning to himself, _the day Wormtail goes evil will be the day He Who Must Not Be Named will be defeated by a one year old kid._

Sometimes prophecies are made in the most unexpected places.


	3. Glasses are very useful

**Hello!!! I'm sure there are tons more thing you can do with a pair of glasses, but it really isn't neccissary to name them all.**

**Disclaimer: not mine. Me no own. No credit I take. Neither did I invent Yoda-speak.**

"Hey, Prongs."

"Hmmm?"

"Why don't you just get your eyes fixed? I t would be better than wearing those on your face all the time. They can't be very convenient."

"Oh, glasses are very usefull."

"How?"

"Well, they keep flies out of your eyes for a start. And you can light fires with them."

"Oh, cool! How?"

"Hmmm . . . I don't actually know. It's cool though, innit?"

"Yeah. What else do they do?"

"They give me X-ray vision and shoot lazers at enemies."

"Oh, ha ha ha."

"No, seriously. Here, try them on."

"Oh, wow! How come you never said?"

"You never asked."

"These are so cool! Wish I was visualy challenged."

"Oh no you don't."

"I do! How d'you get it?"

"You're born with it."

"What about Moony? He never used to have glasses."

"Well, that's different, innit? He tried to claw his own eyes out, didn't he?"

Sirius looked hopefully at his own grimy fingernails.

"Oh, don't be such an idiot!" Both boys grinned. Telling a Marauder not to be an idiot is a huge waste of time and effort, not to mention the one of the first signs of madness. "Quick, take them off! Snape's coming!"

"So? He can't get us in to trouble for wearing other people's glasses, can he? There's no rule against _that_."

"They give you X-ray vision, remember?"

Sirius whipped the glasses off and handed them hurriedly back to James. "Here, take them. I definately _don't _want glasses."

"That's what I said."

Later that day, Sirius suddenly realised why James took such care to make sure his glasses were clean whenever they were around Lily. If you cannot guess, I assure you it was not to make a good impression and advise you never to say 'yes' when people ask if they have to spell it out for you, because if they are cruel and delight in corrupting the innocent (not that I know anyone like that, hehem, big little-girl eyes) they just might.


	4. Names are stupid

**Names are stupid: virtually every author in existance has helped prove this. Special thanks to Christopher Paolini (I'm mocking you, Paolini, in case you can't tell).**

**Disclaimer: I own this! I own it all! Mwa ha ha! Ooops . . . I take that back. I own nothing.**

"I was just thinking, Padfoot, about how thick our parents were."

"Why?"

"Well, they sort of destined us to be who we are with our names, didn't they? I mean, you know Sirius is the dogstar?"

"You flatter me."

"No, it's a real star - astronomy?"

"Oh, yeah. Well?"

"Well, you were hardly going to transform into a bunny with a name like that, were you? Hmm?"

"I wouldn't transform into a bunny anyway, Moony."

"Yeah, but you know what I mean. And me. Romulus and Remus were, acording to legend, the founders of Rome and were raised by a wolf."

"Well, that's not so bad. It's a mistake anyone could have made."

"Remus was the one who got killed."

"Ah."

"Mind you, I'd rather be raised by a wolf than by a clot who gave me a name like that then acted all surprised when In got bitten."

"Now, that's a bit harsh."

"Harsh! That's rich! Mr-My-Entire-Family-Are-Inbred-Evil-Morons?"

"Okay, okay. But they _are _evil morons!"

"Inbred?"

"My parents are practically brother and sister!"

"Calm down! All I said was 'inbred.' It's not all that offensive."

"I'll kill you, someday I really will kill you . . ."

"And it's not just my first name. They had to go and get themselves called Lupin!"

"So?"

"It's French for wolf."

"Ah. So basically, they've just gone and called you 'Wolf-boy Wolf,' right?"

"Yup. And you 'Dog Black.' Major hint. Is it any wonder we're messed up?"

"I always thought it ran in the family."

"Along with being an evil moron."

"Oh, stop it. You're killing me. Is it my fault I come from an ancient and nobly line of jerks?"

"With stupid names."

"Oh, come on, all Wizards have stupid names. Newt Scamander. Albus Dumbledore. That kid in the seventh year, Fudge, what kind of a name is that?"

"A stupid one," Remus admitted. "But Prongs has an okay name: James. James Potter. You're not destined to be anything with a nice, ordinary name like James."

"Or Tom."

"What?"

"Tom's nice and ordinary, too. No hidded mythological or astronomical origins there!"

"Yeah. Tom. A good, solid, down-to-earth name, Tom. You know where you are with a name like Tom."

"You don't have to be anything when you're called Tom. Except ordinary."

_How wrong can you get?_


	5. There's no logical explanation

**It's true, you know. Some things **_**don't **_**have a logical explanation.**

**Disclaimer: all right, one more time from the top . . .**

_**I**_

_**Don't**_

_**Ooooown**_

_**It**_

_**I've never owned it**_

_**It's not miiiiine!**_

* * *

"Blah de blah de blah de blah . . ." 

"Miss!"

"Mr. Lupin?"

"I was just wondering, Miss . . ."

"Don't call me Miss, Mr. Lupin. I do have a name. Please use it."

"OK Minerva."

"Nnnngggrrrr!"

_Thud. Thud. Thud. _The Marauders' classmates had long since grown used to the sound of skull on wood. Eventually it stopped and Minerva turned to speak to Remus.

"Yes, Mr. Lupin?"

"Well, it's just that I was wondering how magic works."

"What . . . what do you mean?"

"You see, if I do _this_," he flicked his wand and a jet of water shot out, "where does the water _come _from?"

"Well . . . you're wand makes it, doesn't it?" Minerva was very confused.

"Yeah, but _how_ and _what_ _from_?"

"Well, it . . . it's magic, isn't it?"

"Well _yes_, but I _knew_ that. How does it _work_? How does it _happen_?"

"It just does! It's _magic_! Now shut up and turn to page 45."

"But it can't just _happen_. It's impossible!"

"Well it does!"

"That's _impossible. _There has to be a logical explanation! There just _has_ to be! Tell me, what _is_ magic and how does it work? What is the _science_?"

"There IS no science! OK?"

"No."

"SHUT UP! Page 45!"

There was a pause, then he said very quietly, "You don't know, do you."

"What?"

"You don't understand magic at all."

"I do too!"

"Do not."

"Do too!"

"Do not!"

"Do too!"

"Do not!"

"Do _too_!"

"Ah. Bad time? I'll call you back."

"Albus! I was . . . we just . . . he said . . ."

"Professor Dumbledore! How does magic work?"

Dumbledore smiled. "I don't know. Some things don't have a logical explanation. Simple as that."

Minerva smiled too and turned to face the class. "Told you so," she said smugly. "Page 45."


	6. Muggle sports shouldn't be encouraged

**Muggle sports should not be encouraged . . . unless you're a Muggle, of course. Special thanks to Miss Holly Short, without whom this **_**would**_** have been possible but harder.**

**Disclaimer: Sadly, I own not Harry Potter, the Marauders, Artemis Fowl, Holly Short, Goblins, Quidditch nor rugby. ****Sorry if that sentence doesn't make sense. :-D**

"You lot are so narrow-minded."

"Hmm?"

"I mean, it's just Quidditch Quidditch Quidditch. How about giving other sports a chance for once?"

"Other sports? Not . . . not Quidditch, you mean?" Sirius sounded shocked by the very idea. "What other sports?"

"Well, there's . . . there are Muggle sports . . ."

"Ah ha! I knew it!"

"Knew what?" James asked innocently (yeah, right).

"You know what I mean! It's Evens, isn't it. She plays a Muggle sport and you're about to tell us how great it is. Try and deny it!"

"No! I mean, yes, I mean . . . Alright. You've got me."

"Go on, then. What does Wondergirl play?"

"She . . . she plays rugby."

"_What?"_ asked Remus incredulously. "Not meaning to be sexist or anything, but Evans? She's not exactly the, um, type, is she?"

"What?" Sirius demanded, baffled. "What's rugby? What's wrong? Tell me!"

After James and Remus had provided a very vivid explanation with much hand gesturing and detailed diagrams, Sirius was left slightly scarred and extremely confused. "But . . . a girl . . ."

It was a damn good thing for him that Holly Short was hundreds of miles away underground, or Sirius would not so much be sent home in a matchbox, as is traditional, or even an urn. Probably a 3 inch re-enforced lead-lined concrete coffin would have done the trick. As it happens, the only female who heard was (fortunately) not armed with a nuclear powered neutrino, a temper hotter than a goblin's nostrils and a handy human boy genius, but a rather large and immensely heavy book on how being a total prat really helps if you're looking for a career in the Ministry.

"Jeez, Sirius, are you all right? Can you hear me? How many fingers am I holding up?"

"To me?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Err . . . two?"

"OK, good enough for me."

"But . . . Prongs . . . doesn't she use up all her energy hollering at you?"

"Ha ha ha. Yes probably. Who brought this up anyway?"

"Rugby . . . she seems more the sort of girl who'd go in for tennis, or swimming perhaps."

"Yeah. Well, I'd better go see Madame Pomfrey, I think I'm concussed."

Remus and James watched him leave. "Well, I guess that proves it. Muggle sports should not be encouraged. You'll only get whacked on the head by a politics-obsessed feminist."

Or vaporized by an irritable female elf in the LEP, but they weren't to know that.


End file.
